


Comfort.

by Moonlit_Streets



Category: overwatch
Genre: Comfort, Cute, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Werewolf Jesse McCree, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlit_Streets/pseuds/Moonlit_Streets
Summary: A short story about Hanzo Shimada, the notorious Japanese incubus and his…’condition’.Please enjoy!





	Comfort.

Anyone who decided not too look deeper would assume that Hanzo Shimada was perfect. 

Silky, black hair, which refused to tangle fled down to his shoulders; dark, almond eyes which could captivate in an instant and a slender, yet muscular figure were all items he possessed. All of these added up and the result was seemingly flawlessness. Surely anyone would be content with that level of attractiveness? 

Not Hanzo. He despised his (referred to as, definitely not by him) 'beautiful' appearance because, just like anything nowadays, it came at a hearty price that cost him dearly. The man, hailing from Japan, could not go anywhere or do anything privately. If he went outside into the public, people (of both genders) would follow him, pester him, compliment him, buy him gifts, offer their number or even their address! It was becoming intolerable! Romance in an obsessive form...not something he desired.

This was the price, or so he was told, of being an incubus. A modern-day demon. 

These awkward-and occasionally dangerous for both Hanzo and the pursuer- social interactions had lead to catastrophic events one to many times in the past. A 'recent' (four years ago) lover of the demon had tossed herself of a moonlit skyscraper 'for him'. Shimada-san's work had called him out of the country for a few days. On the second day of the business trip, he was contacted by the authorities and told his now-former lover was dead. Suicide. Because of him! He knew the cold, heartbreaking truth of the entire matter. 

Hanzo had not yet forgiven himself for this account. The entire event left Hanzo on a scale of depression, terror of himself, self-hatred and definitely a love-anxiety. The effect had eased of as time went by, however. Nonetheless, his soulmate had died because the Shimada believed he could hold and have something as simple as love. Even a demon desired romance-especially a demon known for its sexual deviance. 

Today was a new day. Today was a new day and that gave him the opportunity to lift his head, take his nose into the sky and try again. As the car drove along lazily, Hanzo gave the slightest, slickest hum of noise. Music had never been a direct interest of his, but it filled the lonely and fearful caps that silence just could not fulfil. Knuckles on the wheel and a tight grip on the dark wheel, he took the vehicle into a local shopping centre 

A crowded place fit to bursting with many mortals (and few non-humans, but only few). Not Shimada Hanzo's finest idea. 

A boring morning had burnt into a lazy afternoon for Hanzo. Various shops always bustled with teens and children, occasionally parents scrambling after the uncouth, mostly-unsupervised youth.

The day had gone how he expected it-silent and tiresome. He tried to stay 'undercover', although his days performing any sort-of spy work were past-and not out in the open, so that his attraction powers could not take affect. 

But of course, he had to eat. So that meant making verbal and eye contact, much to his hatred. He flicked his hoodie to cover his loose ebony hair and pushed heavily-worn sunglasses of a deep brown onto his face. 

Everything was going splendidly for all of fifteen minutes. No one had even glanced his way until he got into the elevator. 

He was alone with two people in the elevator-a couple. A man and his partner-they were both young with bright eyes and shiny hair. 

Hanzo couldn't look away, slipping off the glasses. Eye contact was made between them.  
The man was beautiful. 

The way he had stared at Hanzo caused the demon to bite down on his lip tightly. 

Everything! Every natural, primal instinct in Hanzo's body told him to flirt with him, sleep with him, make him beg for more, make him fall in love and then kill him. Kill an innocent person for the joy, thrill and rush. Why? Because that was the traditional way of an incubus. That was the traditional way of any demon:

To kill. To murder. To feast. 

'Slaughter your lover' the voice was whispering in his ear. 'Smell the blood…A+. Feel it trailing down your fingers-'

Hanzo bolted the split second the doors opened. Other mishaps of the mind couldn't stop the voice; that little voice in the back of his mind telling him to do horrible, cruel and dastardly things. One leg after the other, he stumbled down the stairs of the mall, rushing to his car. The door slammed shut. His chest heaved. 

Nails elongated, eyes blurred to become milky white, and skin blackened to charcoal. He crouched in the seat, full of sobs, heaves and a mind filled to the brim of sickly thoughts of sin. He was demon. He was an incubus. He couldn't do anything to stop his nature and he couldn't go on blending in and pretending he was human. 

He couldn't live like this anymore!

—

"H-Hanzo!" That beautiful, relaxing, southern drawl shouted. 

The door banged open and there stood Jesse McCree, the cowboy-werewolf. Lit up, his eyes were a concerned, molten glow. His usual, tied-back hair was also loose and he appeared out of breath. 

"Y-yer not alright are ya?" He heaved, surprisingly out of breath, despite being relatively athletic. Supposedly not as strong as his prime in the undercover agency that was Blackwatch. He used to be a well-made specimen.

Hanzo didn't look up from his sobs as the door was gently pushed open. 

"Well, it explains the claws, skin-" McCree stared before receiving a deadpan, but hurt, expression. "And those damn eyes,"

Silently, Jesse closed the door softly before sitting in the passenger seat. 

"'M here for ya, Han," he said quietly. "Right here, darlin'," 

Golden eyes looked over the horizon, whereas white looked down at black hands. Such contrast in his demon colouring had always surprised Hanzo, but he had never mentioned it to anyone-not even his beautiful lover. Eventually, Hanzo snuggled into Jesse's warm grip. The taller man's arms wrapped around the oni who deeply appreciated the gesture. Gentle pets on the upper arm, right where Han loved it-Jesse knew him too well sometimes, and soft whispers in that toffee-liquid southern tone were given to the demon. 

"Have ya stopped cryin' now?" McCree's voice smoothed. 

A small nod pushed against his chest causing Jesse to pull out a smile. The werewolf's stomach buzzed with hope. 

"Okay…how bout we go home, order some takeout food an' catch up on that TV show ya like?" He rubbed Hanzo's upper arm gently. "How's that sound?"

"P-Perfect…" he nodded shyly. 

The two sat there for a while, basking in the warmth of the sun, completely content with each other's comfort. Hanzo didn't know what he would do without Jesse. Neither did he want to know. All he did know is that, without his obnoxious, loud, noisy cowboy-werewolf, he would be lost to say the least. 

—

**Author's Note:**

> This work was initially posted on the Overwatch RP Chats Amino and the Overwatch Players Amino. Check them out!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I apologise that this story is short, but I didn’t want it to be too long and I’ve not dedicated myself to one AU to make a long story yet, haha! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Kudos’ are appreciated!


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